


You Can't clt+alt+del my Heart

by Poison_Love_Words



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Angst, Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Bottom Derek Hale, Bottom Derek Hale/Top Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Eventual Happy Ending, Feelings, Future Fic, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mates, Protective Stiles Stilinski, Scent Marking, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Loves Derek Hale, Tags May Change, Top Stiles Stilinski, True Mates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2019-10-19 17:12:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17605493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poison_Love_Words/pseuds/Poison_Love_Words
Summary: If you asked any Beacon Hills resident if they knew any supernatural creatures, they’d laugh and say no. Then their laughter would slowly fade, and they’d go quiet before saying, “The Immortal" with a sad look in their eyes. Every resident in Beacon Hills knows about The Immortal, and yet no one knows who or even what he is.This is his story.





	1. The Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,  
> This first part is depressing. There are major warnings that I did not tag for because they would spoil the story. If you want please scroll to the end for the warnings. Also, please let me know if there are any glaring errors, thank you!  
> Enjoy

Beacon Hills is one of the last small towns in America, if not the world. It's hardly changed over the years, same sheriff station, same high school, same diner filled with couples young and old. As the world outside the town learned and adapted to the supernatural community coming out, Beacon Hills residents shook their heads in wonder and congratulated one another on having a town so dull the supernatural stayed away. That is except once a year. 

If you asked any resident if they knew any supernatural creatures, weres, sparks, fey and the like, they’d laugh and say no. Then their laughter would slowly fade, and they’d go quiet before saying, “The Immortal.” They’d get a sad look in their eyes and let out a sigh. Every resident in Beacon Hills knows about The Immortal, and yet no one knows who or even what he is.

The Immortal showed up in town one rainy August day. He rode in on a motorcycle, wearing a leather coat too hot for the weather and a dark pair of shades. People never got a look at his eyes as he passed them, but they did back away when they noticed his scowl. He didn’t talk to anyone, not even for directions which were unusual for an outsider. Beacon Hills was small, but you could get easily lost in the preserve and trails around town. 

No one knows where The Immortal went, although back then he wasn’t known as the Immortal yet. He rode into town one quiet morning, all dark looks and silent anger, and rode out the next just as silently. The only reason people even knew about the stranger was that he’d been seen passing the old Hale property a few times. People talked about the outsider for weeks and months after, curiosity burning in their veins. There were theories and speculation about his presence, but no one really knew why he visited. Over time people forgot about the stranger and when back to their typical lives. Then exactly one year later, he rode back into town. 

When The Immortal first began his yearly pilgrimage to Beacon Hills the supernatural community was still a thing of fiction and dreams. It would be years, decades really, later when ordinary people learned about those creatures not quite human. Then it would be even longer before an uneasy truce settled between humanity and the supernaturals. All this happened around the world, and people were almost forcefully thrust into a new age. Although, the world, for the most part, remained unchanged, and people moved on with their lives. Beacon Hills remained the same small town, one seemingly untouched by the supernatural.

The second year The Immortal came to town it was raining again. Raining during the dry season and had been for over a week. The outside world was awash in greys that clung to a person even inside. The town was close to declaring an emergency if the rain did not stop. The Immortal rode into town, same bike, same leather coat, and same fierce scowl under those darken glasses. This time more people noticed.

Many remembered the rumors and gossip from a year ago. Others wondered about his sanity, driving a motorcycle in the pouring rain. Much like the last time, he entered and left town like a ghost, without interacting with a single soul. No one realized he was even in town except when he was seen driving down the main street toward the preserve. One thing did stand out to the town; when the stranger left so did the rain. 

This patterned continued the following year. The rain, the stranger, the gossip, and the end of the storm. Then it happened the next year and the year after that. As the years wore on and the stranger continued to visit on that particular day in August the town began to notice things. Strange things that didn’t make any sense.

The stranger never seemed to age. He’d been coming to town going on twenty years when was finally spoken aloud. Older adults who’d been children when he’d first showed up realized that even under the shades and the scowl his face was still young and handsome. Then there was the rain. It started and ended like clockwork. Every year the same. Finally, there was the fact that no one ever really saw him arrive or depart, nor in all the years of his visits had anyone ever spoken to him. He was dubbed The Immortal by the town. Despite all the mystery and curiosity surrounding the man no one ever thought to seek him out. His trips to town were analyzed, discussed, and obsessed over, and yet he was left alone. Just as he intended.

************

The rain was cool against his overheated skin. His skin had that tight feeling it got every year before he arrived at his final stop. He’d been on the road for about four days, and he was finally close enough to his mate to feel the bond settle. Close enough for the pain and sadness to be just shy of overwhelming. As the last mile stretched before him, his heart aches as memories invade his thoughts. His throat burns as he swallows back the memories, holding onto them until his journey ends.

The town was exactly the same as it had been last time and all the previous times before that. It was comforting to see his hometown, even if the reason for his visit was painful. He swallowed thickly as he neared his destination. He’d be with his mate again soon. A smile touched his lips as he saw people watching him from their homes. He knew what they called him, knew all the gossip, theories, and rumors. Part of him laughed at the name and how he’s become a living legend, but then he would think about all the grief his immortality has brought him and rage at the town. How dare they make light of the very thing that cost him his happiness. 

Seeing the turn off for the preserve he stamps down on his negative thoughts. He is about to visit his mate, the love of his life and doesn’t want such negativity clinging to him. Most years it is hard enough to leave his pain and depression behind as he hikes to his mate. 

The path is one he’s come to know so well he could walk it blind. He doesn’t; instead, he keeps an eye out for any signs that other people have been there. Thankfully, everything is undisturbed and quiet. He’s not sure he’d be able to appropriately handle himself if he sensed another person so close to his mate. The hint of a smile graces his lips as he thinks about what his mate would have to say about people disturbing the preserve and all its magic. 

The path beings to narrow and he can hear water rushing. There is a small stream near his mate, one that swells until it could almost be considered a river during his visits. The Immortal stops just outside the clearing, taking the last few moments of his own stability before approaching. He swallows his guilt and regrets as he enters the clearing. Magic tingles along his skin, his own magic.  
Stiles walks on silent feet toward the old oak standing tall in the middle of the clearing. He feels tears prickle at the corners of his eyes as the tree reminds him of Derek. It is one of the main reasons he decided this place would be Derek’s. Letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, Stiles sinks to his knees next to the weathered and bleached stone that sits as Derek’s headstone. He trances a long finger around the faded lines of the wolf he’d etched into the rock all those many years ago.

“Hey sourwolf, long time.” Stiles leans against the tree, taking comfort in its shade and magic. He keeps one hand on the stone as he settles in for his visit. He closes his eyes and begins to picture Derek. As he sits there under the tree and watches as Derek’s wolf leaps from the tree line and bounds to him, tongue hanging out in a happy grin. Stiles smiles as Derek shifts into his human form, a fond smile on his beautiful face as he sits across from Stiles. 

Eyes still closed to keep Derek with him, Stiles begins to update him, “I’m starting a new career next month, and you’re not going to believe what it is.” Stiles lets the tears he’s been holding back fall as he pictures Derek’s arched brow and annoyed look. “I’ll be working in an android lab, you know like Data.” He swallows thickly as Derek shakes his head and laughs at Stiles. His lips move silently as he inquires if Stiles is excited to finally be a part of one of his favorite fandoms.

A broken sob leaves Stiles as he realizes he can no longer remember the sound of Derek’s voice. He muffles it with his fist, not wanting to upset Derek. He rolls his eyes as he tries to breathe through the pain, “You’re one to talk Mr. Spock. I only got into the show because you were such a rabid fanboy. Still jealous about your crush on Picard, although I totally get it.” 

He forces a smile as Derek blushes and mouths for him to ‘shut up.’ Derek gives Stiles his patented murder brows and glare. Stiles reaches out to run his thumb between his eyebrows and opens his eyes in shock as Derek disappears. Another sob escapes him, and Stiles gives in to the urge to curl up on the ground. He rages and wiles as the rain hits the earth. The wind picks up and adds its own aching voice to his pain. The world around him blurs as he lets out all his anguish.

Later when the rain has softened into a drizzle, and the wind is a gentle crease, Stiles opens his eyes. He rolls onto his back and stares up at the canopy of leaves. A weight has been lifted from his chest, at least for a little while. His hand moves to the old stone as he sits up with a sigh. He knows he’ll need to get up and strengthen the wards around Derek’s place. He also needs to check in at their old house and reset its own glamour and wards as well. Then he’ll pay a visit to his father and the rest of the pack before he leaves. 

Stiles stands up with a groan, body stiff from his long drive and impromptu nap in the rain. The preserve is quiet as he makes the trek back to his ride. It’s as if it knows Stiles needs these few moments of peace to settle back into himself. As he leaves the trees, Stiles gives one last look toward Derek. He sees him standing there, one brow arched asking him what’s the holdup, before he shifts and runs off with a happy bark. Stiles watches him go, imprinting the image into his memory. He lifts a hand in good-bye, until next year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning Major Character Death-Derek has been dead for years
> 
> The next part will go into Stiles' history and how he became The Immortal.
> 
> Let me know what you think, please and thank you!


	2. Pictures of the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead yet! A bit more angst in this one. If you read the first chapter before this new post I changed a few details.

Stiles turns down the old dirt road just as the setting sun colors the sky a brilliant orange. He feels his heart pick up to its old rabbit pace as he pulls alongside the house, his home. It doesn’t matter he only visits once a year, the house he built with Derek will always be home. It is where they made a life together, a place for just the two of them, their haven from the world. Turning off the bike’s engine, silence greets him like an old friend. Stiles lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding as he looks over the old house. Unsurprised and yet still grateful it’s untouched by others and the elements. 

Years ago, when he first applied the glamor and wards, it was a bit nauseating to see his home superimposed over the fake. The glamor is one of the old, burnt out, and crumbling facade of the Hale house. A house that no one, but Stiles, remembers being torn down. The glamor keeps his home safe from hunters and teenagers, it has a compulsion weaved through it to make anyone closer than fifty feet suddenly gets an overwhelming feeling of hunger. One so intense, that if they are able to get any closer to the house, they will find themselves with a nasty case of nausea and vomiting, while still starving. It’s not pretty, and it’s not pleasant, but Stiles needed to know his home would always be safe. 

At first, after Derek’s death, Stiles intended to stay in Beacon Hills. He was going to find a way to undo the magic that took Derek away from him. He was going to make up for not catching on sooner, and he was going to make the people responsible pay. Only the guilty two fled before he could catch them, and every attempt at bringing Derek back failed. Stiles wasn’t one to give up, but he realized he needed to get away and seek out another method. So, he packed a bag, protected his home and mate, then began to search for the two people he hated most. All while still trying to find a way to bring Derek back to him. That was almost thirty-five years ago, and he was still searching. 

Stiles huffs out another sigh with a jerk of his head as if it could shake off his thoughts. He climbs off the bike and pulls takes with him the saddlebags filled with his supplies. This time it is going to work. It must. Because if not, he’s not going to make it another day, much less another year, without Derek. The hole in his soul has become too big. Stiles walks up to the porch steps and finds the hidden key above the frame without conscious thought. Pausing a moment as the door silently opens Stiles feels his spark settle fully since his last visit. Taking a deep breath for the first time in a year, Stiles smiles as the smells of home, pack, and love wraps around him. 

The house is quiet, not even the hum of background electricity breaking the spell of calm. It has always seemed pointless to turn on the electricity when he only stays a day. Now as his rain-damp skin chills in the cold air of the house Stiles bemoans the loss of a dryer. Then like always, his spark itches behind his eyes and his clothing is instantly dry; and as always, anger flairs deep in his chest. His spark coming so quickly now. Now when it is too late. 

Stiles drops his bags on the floor of the living room. He has time until he needs to set up, time to make sure the house is to Derek’s liking, time to soak in all the memories he shoves away just so he can function the rest of the year. Stiles may be an emotional wreck when he visits home, but it’s the only time he ever allows himself the release. The rest of the year he locks away all his memories, feelings, and heartache. Otherwise, he’d never be able to get out of bed. Thankfully, with his spark and years of practice, it’s not hard to compartmentalize his entire life. It’s not until he gets to Derek’s tree that he lets down the barriers and feels the grief all over again as if it is the first time. 

Now in his home, Stiles begins to feel some of his old happiness return. The living room is all soft colors, bookshelves, and pictures. It was their cuddle room, the rainy day with a book room, their quiet place after a bad hunt room. It’s also filled with their family. Pictures line the walls in a controlled sort of chaos. Stiles moves toward the left, to the beginning of their relationship. Well, not the beginning so much as when they both stopped being such pining idiots and took that first tentative step together. The picture that signifies this to Stiles more than anything is the one of his father and Derek passed out on either end of the couch at the Stilinski house.

**********

Returning to his dad’s house after the freedom of college was something Stiles had never anticipated. He’d been away for so long that it no longer seemed like his home. It was his father’s place where he could crash until he got his life figured out. Apparently, a college degree, or even two of them, did not automatically mean you had a job after graduation. This doesn’t really bother Stiles, who’s had his life planned out since senior year. Of course, coming home for the summer before grad school was not in that plan, but then again neither was cutting ties with Scott or becoming so close to Derek Hale.

It happened slowly and then all at once. Scott when away to college in Washington, saying he needed apart from all the supernatural, but really following Allison. Stiles not wanting to be so far from home went to the University of San Francisco, about an hour away. Well, 35 minutes if you were Derek. Not only was it close to home, but it had an undergrad and graduate program he wanted. He figured he’d stay on campus his first year and search for an apartment close by, which honestly didn’t really happen. Instead, he got a position as a resident advisor his second year, and his room and board were covered. So, he would make the trip home every few weeks for laundry and time with his dad. In the end, it was better than having a crappy apartment. In the end, it led him to Derek.

Derek oddly enough was a considerable texting fiend. Stiles only learned this once he was away at college. Derek would randomly send him questions about various seemingly unrelated things. Over time, those questions would morph into conversations. Which became a crucial part of Stiles’ day. They could text for hours and only stop because of sleep or Stiles’ classes. The only issue was that when Stiles went home, he never saw much of Derek. When questioned, Derek would tell Stiles he didn’t want to interfere with his time with his dad; or with Scott, if it was over the summer. Too bad, Stiles hadn’t been more upfront at the beginning and told Derek Scott was never around. They could have had more time together. 

Now it is the summer before he begins the doctoral program in school counseling and Stiles is going out of his mind with boredom. Scott is either too busy with his vet internship or with Allison to hang out. His dad has started working day shift and isn’t around until 6 pm. And Derek is mysteriously MIA. Sure, he still texts with Stiles all the time, but any time Stiles goes over to the loft it is empty. Which is how he found himself on a random Tuesday in July taking a bagged lunch into the police station for his dad. Which is how he also found out that his dad was a very sneaky if kind-hearted individual.

Sheriff John Stilinski had apparently adopted another son in Stiles’ absence. Not officially of course, but that didn’t matter, he’d taken Derek Hale under his wing and was doing his best to help the other man heal. Stiles had no idea until that one day he walked in on his dad and Derek laughing over some bit of information Derek found. Not only had the Sheriff become a father figure for Derek, but he was now his boss. Derek was the stations resident supernatural expert, or their _research department_ since most officers were not in the know. 

Stiles at first was angry they’d not told him of their friendship or Derek’s job. Then with time, he began to understand his father was only protecting Derek, and Derek was still working on trusting others. This revelation would come later once he learned of Scott’s harsh and vile treatment of Derek. So, Stiles learns about their friendship and finds it hard not to smile as his two favorite people laugh and joke with him over that initial lunch. He doesn’t realize it at the time, but they are his two favorite people. That revelation comes later that week, once again thanks to his dad. 

“I’m heading over to Derek’s!” Stiles shouts out as he barrels down the stairs, already late. 

“Take him somewhere nice this time!” His dad shouts after him from the kitchen, “You can do better than your last date at the diner. I raised you better than that!” John continues to grouse as Stiles barges out the front door.

Stiles races to his jeep and stops, his dad’s words finally registering. He drops his keys in a daze. He’s not dating Derek, where did his dad ever get that idea?! Stiles bolts back into the house, completely forgetting his keys on the ground. He stumbles into the kitchen, arms flailing and face pink in indignation. 

“We’re not dating!!” He exclaims as the Sheriff turns around from the counter with a look of disbelief. “We’re not!” He adds with an intentional pout. 

“Oh really?” John asks with a smirk, “You could have fooled me.” He smiles as his son flails around trying to argue.

“What? No! What? Ugh dad, no just no. It’s Derek. And it’s … me.” Stiles mumbles that last part.

“You mean two people who are constantly texting each other,” John states as he pushes off the counter, “The two people who make moony-eyes when they think no one is looking,” he places a gentle hand on Stiles’ shoulder as the younger man shifts uneasily. “The two people who I know have been hiding their feels from each other since one of them was a senior in high school. If not longer. Something everyone in the world seems to realize but them.” John pulls Stiles into a one-armed hug, “Derek loves you. Just like you love him. I knew this the moment he came to the house looking for his anchor when you first when away.” 

Stiles leans back from his dad with a look of confusion, “His anchor?”

John gives his son a soft smile as he shakes his head, “Son, I love you, but you are a blind fool.” He steps back from Stiles and takes a swig from his beer as he heads back to the grill, “Go to your wolf and make things official. Then both of you are to come back here for dinner.” John doesn’t wait for Stiles’ response as he enters the backyard.

Stiles stares after his dad for a long moment before barreling out of the house again. He has a wolf he needed to see. He gets his keys and starts up the jeep as he thinks over the speech he is going to use to woo Derek. How the two of them are perfect for one another. It would be ridiculous for them NOT to be together. Stiles taps on the steering wheel and smiles as he begins to see all those times it was so obviously Derek cared for him too.

The drive to the loft takes forever, and yet Stiles doesn’t remember any of it as he rushes up the stairs. A smile lights up his face as he sees Derek waiting for him in the doorway, a small smile of his own lighting up his face. Stiles stumbles up the last few stairs and can’t be bothered to feel embarrassed as Derek’s hands stop his fall. 

Stiles looks into eyes that haunt his dreams, and blurts out, “I love you,” and immediately regrets it as Derek’s hands leave him. “No! Sorry I didn’t mean that!” Stiles watches in horror as Derek’s face seems to crumble, “NO! I mean arg-” Stiles rubs a hand over his face, he lets out a breath as he steels himself, “I did mean that, I do love you. I’m just sorry I sprung it on you like that.” Stiles feels hope take up resident in his chest as Derek's eyes soften, he grabs the were’s hand, “I think I’ve loved you since I had to keep your heavy ass afloat in the pool.” 

Stiles feels a flutter of happiness as Derek lets out a snort of laughter, “I live for our texts and can’t imagine a day where I don’t hear from you. Your wit and sarcasm not only make me laugh, but there are times they completely brighten my day.” Stiles heart skips a beat at Derek’s blush, “And I would be a blind fool if I didn’t tell you all of this.” Stiles stops his rant and sees that Derek is suddenly very close.

“Stiles,” Derek says his name like it’s magic, “shut up,” Derek growls before tugging Stiles into a sweet kiss. 

His lips are soft and dry against Stiles’ own roughly chapped and bitten ones. Although, neither seems to mind as they press closer together. Stiles leans back and feels the world right itself as Derek looks at him with fondness. Stiles, for once in his life is speechless, so he pulls Derek back into a lip lock. Only this time he turns it filthy, seeking entrance into the other man’s mouth, using his teeth and tongue to lay claim to every place they touch. They stand like that, exchanging kisses and soft touches in the hallway until a throat is cleared behind them. 

They reluctantly pull apart but don’t actually move away from each other. Another cough from down the stairs has them looking to see who’s dared disturbed their happiness and are met with the twin smirks of Erica and Boyd. “First off, it’s about damn time,” Eric exclaims with a silent cheer. “Secondly, even though we are over-joyed that you two have finally stopped your childish yearning, the hallway is not a great place for sexy times,” Erica tells them with a wink as she and Boyd enter their own apartment with a whoop and more laughter. 

Derek and Stiles let out a laugh of their own. They eventually separate and Stiles tells Derek about his conversation with his dad. Derek’s blush darkens as he admits he was also cornered by the Sheriff early and told him to make an honest man of Stiles. Stiles rolls his eyes at his dad’s meddling but is secretly planning a steak dinner for the man as a thank you. 

They arrive at the Stilinski house to minimal fanfare. John has dinner set out and hands them both a beer with a smile as they sit down to eat. Later, once they move to the living room, Stiles learns more about his dad’s and Derek’s friendship and is happy to realize his father has become a part of Derek’s pack. He sits between the two of them, laughing and sharing stories until they are all pulled into some mindless reality show. Later, after Stiles realizes no one has made a comment for quite some time, he sits up and sees both men have fallen asleep. Not one to wastes such a heartwarming moment, Stiles takes a picture.

**********

Stiles smiles as he remembers his father’s complaining about the picture. Saying it wasn’t fair Derek looked so much better in an unkempt sprawl than he did. This didn’t stop the Sheriff from getting the picture framed for Stiles and Derek’s new home.

Stiles moves down the row of pictures. There is the one from his first official pack night as the ‘newest’ member of Derek’s pack; everyone crammed into a booth at Joe’s Pizza and smiling with sauce covered faces. Derek somehow giving Stiles bunny ears, while the Sheriff shoves a slice into Erica’s shocked yet smiling face. He wipes a tear from his eye as he sees how happy and carefree they’d all been.

Next is Derek’s graduation. Something the pack put together when Stiles learned Derek had finished his degree in linguistics. He’d done it taking online classes without telling anyone. Stiles knew how much it meant to Derek to finally get that degree. He wanted to make sure Derek knew how proud he and the rest of the pack was of his accomplishments. They weren’t sure of the exact graduation date since Derek had been too nervous to tell anyone. Thinking he’d have to face their judgment if he failed (something everyone but him knew would never happen), so the pack decided to throw a party the last week of May. They’d decorated Boyd and Erica’s apartment, figuring it was one of the few places Derek wouldn’t be and even got him a cap and gown. The Sheriff acted out the part of the dean and handed Derek a diploma as loud cheers erupt. A camera flashes as Derek shyly holds up his diploma with a blushing smile. 

His diploma turned out to be a poster made for him from the pack. Everyone had written and decorated it, putting into words how much their Alpha meant to them. Later, after Stiles was alone with Derek in the loft, he held him tightly as tears of happiness streak down the were’s cheeks. That night, they held each other close and Stiles whispered all his love into Derek’s ear as the other man slept. 

Now the diploma is hanging up in its place of honor in the middle of Derek’s other diplomas and awards in his office. Stiles runs a finger over the still image of a blushing Derek before moving to the next picture. This one has jealousy briefly twisting in his gut before a happy sigh escapes him. Despite some of the negative feelings associated with the picture, it is by far his favorite.

**********

Stiles may not be a werewolf, but even he could smell that rank scent of another were on Derek as his boyfriend gets home. It has become an almost daily occurrence, one that made Stiles wish for the bite so he can claim Derek as his mate. For a while, Stiles has known Derek is dealing with a new co-working, one of the supernatural persuasion. He now realizes this co-worker is also of the Derek-sexual persuasion. This will not do.

Derek enters the loft with a heavy sigh and leans back against the door letting out a shudder. His face is closed off, complete with murder brows and scowl. Stiles hasn’t seen Derek this tense since before they got together. He’s going to try and get Derek to forget about this, as soon as he knows what’s caused it. His first thought is Scott but quickly shoves that awful thought away. Scott is out in Montana with Allison. Safely away from Derek and the rest of the pack. Stiles closes his laptop and approaches Derek.

“Hey Sourwolf, long day?” He keeps his voice light as Derek opens weary eyes.

“Something like that,” he mumbles. He’s obviously overwhelmed as he now only tends to get closed off when he’s upset. 

Stiles hums in reply as he runs a hand down Derek’s neck, and watches in mild awe as it has the desired effect. Derek’s face relaxes as his body slumps against the door. Stiles tangles his other hand in Derek’s hair as the wolf lets out a contented purr. He pressed his body against Derek’s knowing the full body contact will help ground Derek. Early on Stiles realized that more than anything Derek craves physical contact, and not just of a sexual nature. Sometimes he needs to feel the weight and security of another person pressed against him. Stiles wonders if Derek hadn’t been touched starved before they got together and was now making up for the years of longing. Stiles is always ready and very willing to give Derek all the contact he needs. He would gladly spend all day holding him both in his human and wolf forms. 

Now as Stiles watches the tension and fear seep out of Derek, he gets the feeling later that night he’s going to be snuggling wolf Derek in bed. He smiles, loving the thought of Derek being so comfortable in Stiles’ presence, he can shift without worry. Stiles places a chaste kiss to Derek’s lips, “Go shower and change into whatever. I’ll be here when you are done.” 

Derek whimpers but gives a shaky nod as he makes his way to the bathroom. Stiles wants to join him, would gladly follow Derek into the shower. He’d run soap-slick hands down Derek’s back, cupping his generous ass before kneading it. He’d run light fingers down his cleft, teasing around his rim until Derek was bucking and pleading for more. Oh, how Stiles would worship every inch of Derek, make him forget he was ever with anyone else, but he won’t. At least not tonight. 

Stiles may want to ravage and pay homage to every part of Derek, but he also wants Derek to forget about his stressful day. Stiles gets the feeling, based on the little bits of information Derek has given, that this new wolf at work is walking the line of sexual harassment. A thought that has Stiles itching to confront them. For all the growth Derek has made there are still triggers which cause Derek undo pain. Make him think of himself as nothing more than a body other’s desire, something to be used and discarded. 

Knowing this, along with how Derek entered the loft, Stiles is planning a night to remind Derek of his worth. Stiles cleans up his study space as the water turns on. He calls into their favorite chinses place and places an order for their usual. After hanging up Stiles smiles as he realizes they have a usual. Strong hands encircle his waist as a stubble rough chin slides against his neck. Stiles lets out a little moan as lips map out his throat, “Mmm, you need to stop that, or we’ll never hear when our food arrives.”

“I’m sure Boyd would thank us for dinner,” Derek growls into Stiles ear as he runs wicked fingers over his hardening nipples. 

“I ordered it extra spicy for you, pretty sure Boyd will not thank us for that,” Stiles smiles as Derek huffs out an annoyed sigh as he noses along Stiles’ neck. “Besides no hanky-panky for you until after you eat. When’s the last time you ate today?” Stiles pulls away from the oh-so-tempting mouth to lay a look on Derek.

Derek growls out a breath as he nuzzles into Stiles’ neck, “I had an apple around one. Didn’t have time to grab food.” 

Stiles sighs as he cards a hand through Derek’s damp hair. Derek has been spending more time in his office at work, refusing to leave for basic necessities like food. Stiles has a sinking feeling that the new deputy is a more significant concern than he previously thought. Stiles lets Derek scent mark him and runs his own hands over his mate as he thinks. As much as he doesn’t want to upset Derek, Stiles needs to know what is going on at the station.

“Is it the new deputy?” Stiles asks gently as he tilts Derek’s head back to look into those tired yet beautiful eyes. 

Derek’s brows lower and his face closes off. Stiles watches quietly, knowing after all this time Derek isn’t shutting him out. Communication has always been hard for Derek, especially about his own wants and needs. He’s gotten much better, but stills need a little extra time. Stiles has also gotten better at giving him that time. 

It doesn’t take much time at all for Derek to finally take a breath, “I can’t leave my office,” his eyebrows furrow in anger, “he is trying to court me. If I leave, then he has the chance to deposit a gift in my space.” Derek works his jaw, “he’s not accepting no.” He gives Stiles an almost pleading look, “He laughed when I said I had a mate. Said I didn’t smell claimed.”

Stiles bristles in anger. He pulls Derek closer and scents along his neck, “Oh hell no! He’s going to regret that.” 

The doorbell rings before he can add anything else. Stiles is quick to get the food and a plate made for Derek. It’s one of the few ways he can provide for his mate, but it always has the desired effect. Derek’s face goes soft, and a little red as the tension leaves his body. Stiles may not be a wolf or ‘true alpha,’ but that doesn’t change the fact that he is Derek’s alpha mate.

They eat and as predicted Derek shifts and cuddles close to Stiles on the couch. His fur soft under Stiles’ hands as Stiles absentmindedly pets him and thinks. They are both possessive and fiercely protective of the other, something they both know and since it’s mutual, not an issue. Stiles knows that if pushed Derek will snap out at this wolf. He needs to do something before that happens. A plan begins to form. 

The next day Derek walks into the station and immediately notices the scent of his mate, everywhere. He also sees the sheriff leaning in his doorway, a small threatening to spread across his face as he gives Derek a slight nod. Derek feels eyes on him as he walks back to his little office near the cold case room. The smell of Stiles gets stronger, now with a hint of excitement. 

Derek stops as Chuck aka deputy wolf almost runs into him. Chuck reeks of fear as he plasters himself to the wall, ensuring he doesn’t touch any part of Derek as he hurries by. Derek doesn’t give him much thought as he notices Stiles perched on his desk, leg shaking with barely contained excitement. Derek’s eyebrows inches toward his hairline as he looks around his office. Not only is there a buffet laid out behind his desk, but there are courting gifts everywhere.

There were the traditionally themed gifts: A box of first edition books for the mind, a yoga mat and bath salts for the body, a collection of CDs and art supplies for the spirit, and a simple jar filled with Stiles words of love for the heart. Stiles also had werewolf courting gifts: the heart of a sheep, the pelt of a deer, small vials of antidotes and protections, and one rabbit hopping around. Finally, Stiles brought gifts that were purely to bring Derek joy: a box of Trix cereal, a book of cryptoquips, origami paper, a fox plushie, a soft blue sweater, and a handwritten letter of promise to not eat the last Oreo.

Derek looks around his office in wonder. He turns back to Stiles and the younger man holding a small black box. One eyebrow raised in questions. Derek gapes at him for all of a second before he is kissing him senseless. They are so wrapped up in their own little world; it takes them a few moments to hear the cheering and applause.

**********

Stiles will never forget the party that followed his proposal. The entire station practically shut down, everyone celebrating their favorite consultants finally getting hitched. Of course, explaining the gifts was a trailing in distraction and only successful with the Sheriff’s help. There were dozens of pictures taken that day. The one with a place of honor on their wall is the one taken just as Derek notices the ring box. His eyes bright and a smile just beginning to spread across his face.

Stiles looks through a few more pictures. One of their wedding, a small quiet ceremony. Then of their reception, a big and noisy affair with the pack, friends, family, and the entire police force (minus Chuck). Stiles runs light fingers over the pictures of their honeymoon. They decided to rent a cabin up north. It was so secluded neither saw another person for the entire week they were there. Stiles especially loves the picture of his complete transformation into a fox. Derek captured a beautiful shot of him just as he was racing through the forest in the early hours of the morning.

Stiles pauses in his remembrances as he comes to the beginning of the end. The first one is Derek and Stiles huddled together under a tarp, holding up the first-place trophy both covered in mud. It was the annual police picnic, and they won the manhunt. It is a picture just like all the others, except for one thing. The touch of grey at Derek’s right temple.  


Then there is the picture of a pack beach trip. Derek passed out under an umbrella, hair greyer and lines around his eyes. Next is a shot of John accepting a medal of valor, sandwiched between his two boys. Derek’s hair is more silver than black, and the lines around his eyes a bit more pronounced. The final picture is one of the two of them at Erica and Boyd’s twentieth-anniversary party. Stiles looking young and carefree with an arm wrapped around Derek. Derek, who looks about thirty years older than his mate, hair grey and skin a sickly pallor. His once broad frame shrunken and frail next to the rest of his pack.

Stiles beats a fist against the wall. Old rage and frustration boiling in his veins. How could he have missed all those signs? They are plain as day in the pictures scattered across the wall. Yet it took them until it was too late to notice the rapid aging. Stiles presses a hand over the photo of his proposal, and sobs. He pulls the picture off the wall as he slumps down. Here he is years later, unaged and as vital as he was in the captured image. His mate should be here with him, they were to have next to eternity together. Derek was an alpha wolf and Stiles an alpha spark, a union almost unheard of, but one that made the pair virtually immortal. 

Instead of eternity, Stiles didn’t even have forty years with his mate. Now he was left with all the benefits of an alpha union and no partner. It was almost comical that the once perceived weakest pack member outlived everyone, and not for lack of trying. Immortality for Stiles was more of a curse when faced alone. He’d worked over the years to end it. Only to find himself whole and unscathed. Now though, he has a ritual that should transfer his bond to another.

It is his plan z if his resurrection attempt does not work this year. He has all his affairs in order. It’s not as if many people would really notice if he were gone. Sure, the rumors in Beacon Hill would go wild for a bit, but they would die off eventually. He already told Vicky his plans, and she knew what to do with his apartment and research. All his affairs were in order. There was just one loose thread he’d have to deal with, kill Scott and Allison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be back to posting on a more regular basis. If you like this you should subscribe to me. I have a few Sterek stories, ones with a much lighter tone and a very sassy little dragon.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles stares at the old scroll he’s unrolled on the dining room table. He studies the ritual for the hundredth time. It looks easy enough; in fact, it is much less complicated than all his other attempts. Vicky had been right; it wouldn’t require more than a few mixed herbs and a candle. She is positive this simple spell is the key to bringing Derek back, Stiles gets the feeling he’s just wasting time. Although a small voice in his head reminds him this was actually written by an Alpha spark. Sparks don’t need fancy words or rituals for their magic. Something he’d not learned until it was already too late. 

A spark’s magic is all about a force of will and focus. Many sparks created spells and rituals as a way to ensure their magic doesn’t go wild, much like the ritual he is going to try in the next hour. Some sparks are disciplined enough to use their magic without the need for props. Vicky is convinced once Stiles gets his anchor back, he’ll be one of them. She also rages against the ‘piss poor’ training he’d received as a teenager. 

Stiles had hated his time studying with Deaton. The druid would give vague instructions then practically sneer at Stiles’ incompetence when nothing happened. Thinking back on it, Stiles wishes he’d listened to his instincts and not agreed to train with the vet. He’d never liked Deaton and always thought the druid had his own agenda. Then over time, he realized Deaton hated Derek and actively told the Alpha the wrong information to set him up for failure, much like what he did to Stiles.

Stiles remembers how the vet would always tell Stiles all he had to do was focus and make things happen. It was so frustrating he’d never experienced anything magical in his life, at least not of his own creation. Sure, he was friends with a guy who could turn into a werewolf. His high school crush was a banshee, and his current crush had the ability to turn into a literal wolf (fluffy tail and all). But these things were just a part of his life. He never did anything to create them.

Nothing ever seemed to work. Stiles practiced and tried and focused and failed, every time.  He tried to do something as simple as light a candle with his mind; something Deaton said would be straightforward. He tried to move things, create things, and even shift into another shape. Nothing ever worked, and all Deaton ever said was, “Sparks need an unwavering focus and disciplined willpower. Maybe I was mistaken, and you are not a spark.” 

So, Stiles stopped trying. He gave up on the idea that he was anything else other than a weak human. That is, he gave up until Deaton’s plans for Derek caused Stiles to intervene. Because, if there was one thing that could be said about Stiles, it was he protected those he cared about, and Gods help anyone who tried to hurt his pack. 

At the time Stiles hadn’t known Derek was his mate. They’d only been together a few months when the druid decided he was done with waiting for Derek to inadvertently kill himself. The summer before most of the pack started college, Deaton had told Derek there was an Omega lost in the woods, one who might need help. Derek figured it would be an easy enough meeting and didn’t contact the rest of the pack. Something the vet had planned for, but also made sure everyone else was wandering around in a dead zone looking for a tree imp.

Two things happened that day that Stiles will be forever grateful for 1. He didn’t go with the rest of the pack. Something told him to stay with Derek. 2. Derek didn’t argue with Stiles and let the teen join him.

Turns out Deaton had conjured a fire elemental. Stiles remembers being shocked the flamed shrouded body was blue and white instead of the usual oranges and reds. He remembers Derek freezing once the scent of burning grass hit him. Then he doesn’t remember much else. Later, when he wakes up in Derek’s bed with the wolf sitting next to him. Stiles remembers the look of sadness Derek wore. A look that quickly changed to relief once he noticed Stiles was awake. With a sigh of fond annoyance, Derek filled Stiles in on what happened. The elemental was a hulking thing of blue flame, and when it spotted the ‘were it vanished and reappeared directly in front of Derek; grabbing the Alpha around the neck before either of them could blink. The moment it’s burning touch gripped Derek’s neck Stiles muttered ‘oh hell no,’ and a bright purple light spread from him to engulf the creature. It was gone, sent back to its home. Stiles gave Derek a big smile and promptly passed out. 

Apparently, all his spark needed was for him to find his anchor. Although it wasn’t until they were dating years later when stiles finally put the pieced together. At the time, it was like the flood gates had finally opened, and Stiles quickly found a sense of peace with this spark. He didn’t need to struggle to make things happen, he only needed to call up that feeling of pack, family, mate.   
 

 

Now, after years of not having his mate and anchor with him, Stiles finds using magic mildly painful. It’s not enough to stop him from using it, mostly, but it is another reminder of everything he’s lost. Despite the mild pain, it is still ridiculously easy to employ his spark compared to when he was first learning. 

With a frustrated huff, Stiles begins to gather all his materials and sets about making the summing paste as he’s mentally dubbed it. Celery seeds, lemon juice, chia, yew berries, and dandelion leaves are mixed with dirt from his home, a small bit of his blood and a strand of Derek’s hair. The mixture is disgusting to look at but has a pleasant, earthy smell. A single candle is placed in the middle, the dirt and chia seeds bind everything together to create a mostly stable base. 

Stiles takes a deep breath. Holding his breath, he pulls to mind all his failed attempts, all the pain and years of depression, then he lets it all out with his exhale. Taking another deep breath, he does it all again, and again until he feels his mind is clear of negativity. Opening eyes, he knows are highlighted a vivid purple, Stiles doesn’t bother looking at the scroll, the words are imprinted on his mind.

“ **qa'wI'vaD qem wItI'nISmo'** ”.

He can feel the gathered power, it flows with his voices as it fills the room. Pain builds behind his eyes, and he can hear the distant roll of thunder. A fleeting thought about how the lights would be flickering if he had power has him giggling until the candle dies. The air is heavy, he feels as if everything is being weighed down by the force of his magic. A noise comes from behind him, it sounds muffled as his ear fill from the pressure building in the room. 

Stiles is unable to move; he tries to turn around to see what is happening behind him but finds he can’t even blink. Air moves around him, whatever is behind him seems to be sucking everything into it. Crap did he just make a black hole!? Worry has his thoughts racing as vertigo hits. The world seems to be rewriting itself in his dining room. Then his ears pop, and everything is the same. 

“Stiles?”

And nothing is the same. Tears prickle at his eyes, and he struggles to swallow. He knows that voice. Suddenly nervous, Stiles closes his eyes and turns around. The room tilts under his feet as he opens his eyes to the most beautiful sight, Derek standing in front of him. Eyes curious under full inquisitive brows. Face unlined with dark hair falling across his forehead, Derek smiles at him. 

Stiles feels like he can barely breathe as Derek arches one brow, and a small smirk curves his lips, “Almost anti-climactic, huh?”

Stiles’ world continues to roll under his feet as he stumbles toward his mate, “Grand gestures make you uncomfortable.” He mumbles as he moves to embrace Derek. Stiles barely notices the spots dancing around his vision. He is confused as his hand passes through Derek’s hand as if it wasn’t there, his vision must be worse than he thought. He reaches for Derek’s face and watches in horror as his hand passes through the other man. 

The overwhelming need to lay down slams into Stiles. It physically hurts to be vertical, and he sinks to his knees before falling to his side. His mind shows him, Derek, lowering to his knees beside Stiles with a worried look. Stiles doesn’t want to look but can’t turn away as Derek lays on his side across from him. His vision grows dark around the edges, and the exhaustion is too much to fight against.

“Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up,” Derek tells him with such warmth and love it hurts to hear.

Closing his eyes on the illusion, Stiles thinks that at least the spell gave him back the sound of Derek’s voice. The murmur of Derek quietly telling him to sleep follows him into the darkness.   
   
 

Stiles may have immortality, but sleeping on a hardwood floor still has him waking up feeling like an old man. He lets out a low moan as he rolls onto his back, he keeps his eyes closed to limit his vertigo. What the hell did he do last night? His body feels like he went rounds with Keenen before drinking an entire bar worth of booze with Vicky. Shifting to sit up, his arm flops onto his chest and hits his cheek instead of following his directions. He takes stock of the appendage and realizes he has no feeling, probably from loss of circulation. At least that is his hope, his head still hurts too much to try and open his eyes.

“You look worse than the time Jackson got you to try Kanima-venom wine,” a soft chuckle follows as the whispered words have Stiles’ eyes flying open. 

He bolts up with a pained groan but thankfully other than a few body aches and the pins and needles in his arm, the world doesn’t spin around him. A quick look around lets him know it is still night, but he can’t tell how long he’s been out. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Derek regarding him. He looks like he always does in the little clearing, except he is wearing a maroon Henley rather than the green one Stiles likes to envision. 

“You changed your shirt,” he blurts out. 

Derek’s eyebrows crinkle in confusion, “No, it’s the same one from before you passed out.”

Stiles lets out a humorless laugh, “Right, forget all the times I conjured you by your grave.” He gets stiffly to his feet with another low groan.

It takes more than he is willing to admit to not apologize to his imagination-created mate. Derek’s face is partly hurt and partly annoyed as he silently watches Stiles struggle to his feet. Stiles almost laughs as Derek lets out a loud sigh before standing, “I’m not sure if I should be offended or impressed with the fact you think I am a figment of your thoughts.” Derek tells him with more amusement than ire, giving away his feelings.

“Derek,” Stiles begins feeling weary and worn out, “as much as I wish you were real,” Stiles stops as he fights back to keep his heart from breaking all over again. Running a hand through his too-long hair, Stiles turns entirely to the apparition, “Derek,” he begins again, “I’m tired. Too tired to pretend I am content with a vision of you when all I want is to be able to hold you again. Feel your heartbeat against my own and know you are once again safely home.” Stiles turns his back on the vision, too emotionally raw to see the hurt and desperation in Derek’s eyes that is sure to mirror his own. “This was my last chance. This farce of an Alpha spark’s spell was my last hope. There is nothing else I can do now except you are gone and find what little peace I can and doling out an ass-kicking to those deserving,”  Stiles continues as he starts cleaning up the small mess, “My magic is becoming unstable without my anchor, it’s barely noticeable, but soon I’ll be a danger to others. Besides, I’ve lived long enough without you.” 

“Stiles, I love you with all I am, but you’re an idiot,” Derek huffs annoyance clear in his voice. “I knew you were an idiot when we got married, but it seems it’s only gotten worse over the years,” Stiles turns back to the specter and glares, “don’t give me that look, it’s a bit hazy but you weren’t this suicidal the last time I saw you.” Derek’s face scrunches up in thought, “Not sure how long ago that was, to be honest.” Stiles is almost amused as Derek’s eyebrows communication his frustration as he seems to be gathering his thoughts, “Mieczysław Stilinski, I don’t’ think you realize the spell you recited a few moments ago, but it called me back to you,” Stiles feels hope bloom in his chest before reality can crush it as Derek’s hand slides right through his arm, “I might not be able to touch you, but Stiles it’s me.”   
   
Stiles feeling anger replace the listlessness, he marches over to the front door and tosses the herb mixture in a bag. He’s not in the right frame of mind to deal with his consciousness deciding to play cruel pranks on him. He can’t handle his mind acknowledging that Derek has been gone while also teasing him with a vision of his mate that feels so realistic. 

“I really don’t want to argue with myself right now,” Stiles mutters as he gathers his supplies to pack up. “telling me my name doesn’t really help you out here imagination man.” He tosses out as Derek growls at him.

“Damnit Stiles, can’t you feel the bond?” Derek’s eyes are Alpha red as he paces, “I felt it as soon as I got here, it feels so much weaker, but it’s still there.” Derek almost growls that last part as Stiles stares at him. 

He is so tempted to let down his shields but knows he won’t be able to handle it when he fills that hole in his soul all over again. He is saved from replying as his phone begins to play the X-Files theme song. He curses as he dumps the saddlebag and answers the call.

“Well?” A lightly accented female voice asks without preamble.

Stiles rubs at his eyes; he can hear the barely contained excitement in Vicky’s voice. He had promised to call her right away if it didn’t work. Letting her know he wouldn’t be returning to work and give their boss his letter of resignation. He’d forgotten after his little nap and dealing with a conscious determined to cause him pain.

“It didn’t work,” he mutters and pulls the phone away from his ear.

“What do you mean it didn’t work?!” Vicky’s voice goes slightly shrill. There is the sound of a male voice in the background and Vicky sighs, “Sorry, got a bit emotional there.” Her Russian accent stronger now, “you okay?” 

Stiles smiles sadly at the question, “No,” he tells her honestly, not that he could lie to her in any case. “I’m tired, despite this spell not working it sure took it out of me.”

“That because it did work,” Derek grumbles.

Stiles ignores him and continues, “Worse, my mind has decided to torture me even more than usual this trip.” 

“Your inability to not be a stubborn idiot is what’s torturous,” Derek growls as he throws his hands up with a huff.

Stiles almost snickers at the show of frustration, “Does magically drain come with hallucinations?” Stiles asks at the same time Vicky says something.

“Huh?” he eloquently inquires, “I didn’t catch that.”

He can feel the eye roll, then Vicky repeats in a quiet voice, “Stiles if the ritual didn’t work, then who is that complaining in the background?”

It takes a moment for the words to process. Then Stiles slowly turns back to face Derek. The man is glaring at him, arms crossed, eyes Alpha red, and the hint of fang should not be as sexy as they are. Stiles swallows and stares as Derek arches a brow, “Believe me now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Props to anyone who knows the language used for the ritual without looking it up. :P
> 
> I hopefully will be posting more soon now that I have my outline reworked. My original idea for the story didn't quite feel right. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! Kudos and comments are very much welcomed.


End file.
